


Irresistible

by leiascully



Series: The FBI's Most Unwanted [40]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 13:03:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4961647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"That kind of darkness has a gravity that I'm not sure anyone can escape."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irresistible

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: 2.13 "Irresistible"  
> A/N: I could write a million more words about this episode, but this was all I had the stomach for tonight.  
> Disclaimer: _The X-Files_ and all related characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Studios. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

She was fine. She was absolutely fine until Mulder put two gentle fingers under her chin and made her look into his eyes, and then she came undone. She leaned into his shoulder and sobbed her terror and her disgust into his coat, the wet wool scratching the abrasions on her face.

She was never fine. She hadn't been fine from the first moment she'd seen the girl in the grave and Mulder had known it without a word, but they'd both played along. And now she was weeping with her face pressed into his shoulder, her arms flung around him as if he were her life preserver. His hand woven into her hair and the steadiness of him were all that were keeping her upright.

She had been prey for this man, even more than she had been prey for Tooms; at least Tooms had had a biological urge driving him on. Pfaster had no excuse except the horror movie playing in his head. He had made her feel small because it pleased him. He had whittled her down to a size that he liked after she had worked so hard to build herself up. She was furious with him for that, and terrified. He got a thrill from hunting her through the rooms of his house, from making her imagine the lingering way he would kill her, the desecration of her body. He made her imagine how he would keep pieces of her even after she was gone. What he might do with the trophies he took. She had autopsied the woman he had solicited and killed. She knew what he was capable of, and he had let her hear every heavy step as he searched for her. 

She would have nightmares, she knew. She would call Mulder and breathe shakily into the phone and he would tell her stories about nothing, about absolutely nothing, just so she could listen to the cadence of his voice.

Mulder held her tight and she fit under the jut of his chin, but he never made her feel small. She stayed in his arms, clutching at him, until long after they had dragged Pfaster away and all was silent in the eerie house. She was cold, jittery with shock, trying not to let her teeth chatter, but Mulder was warm. She leaned into him, soaked him up until she felt less like an animal run to ground, baring its teeth in a last desperate stand. She cried in fits and starts until the tension seeped away, leaving her lolling, her muscles slack and her legs unreliable.

"You found me," she choked out at last.

"I found you," he said, stroking her hair. "But I didn't save you, Scully. You would have saved yourself."

She shakes her head, rubbing her face against his lapel. 

"Hey," he said softly. "I know you. You would have made it out of here." 

"He's evil, Mulder. That kind of darkness has a gravity that I'm not sure anyone can escape." She shivered against him, and realized he was trembling too. His smoothed her hair again and said nothing, his other arm tightening briefly around her.

"Let's go," she said wearily, leaning back against the steadiness of his arm, and this time meeting his eyes was a relief. He nodded, and kept his arm around her shoulders as they walked out to the car. She bore the weight of it like armor, shielding her from any other ill will the world bore her. He drove. She stared out the window and tried not to curl in on herself. In the morning there would be a report to give, photographs to take. She would have to tell her story. Tonight the dark wrapped around her like Mulder's coat, hiding her from any eyes but his, and he held her hand as he steered them toward the hotel.


End file.
